wonderfulexchange

blessing of blossom

This was first posted on a private blog, 24 March, 2011.

She came bearing branches –
bus to train to train,
sheltering fagility as best she could,

then, up the hill, past an old friend’s grave
a prayer
and a blessing of blossoms.

Usually, she brings branches in December:
dark, and bare on St Barbara’s Day,
pink and new born for Christmas.

‘What tree is this?’ I’d asked,
‘what is it like in Spring?’
so seven years and a season later, she came.

We spoke of cats and trees and journeys,
her husband, no longer at home,
and his clear certainty that she should wear red.

The things she really came for hung in silence,
and our time ended too soon
to reach through the cracks of our defences.

I think of her now, a blessing –
train to train to bus,
sheltering fragility as best she can.

my body arrived in Wantage several hours before the rest of me
the better the view from the desk, the more ink cartridges one needs
‘For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven,
and do not return there until they have watered the earth,
making it bring forth and sprout,
giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,
so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;
it shall not return to me empty,
but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,
and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.
oh, for a place where creativity flows, and stimulus abounds
alternately, silence would do.
or both?
I am better at preaching on the gracious love of God than living in it
old apple trees have seen a lot of violence
cats can have goatees
there might be different ways to be a priest
the ‘right’ spiritual director remains a blessing, even after 10 years. (which is not to say that there aren’t other ‘right’ and necessary people too.)
When I dig down deep with the question, ‘what do I really want?’ I find that Virginia Wolf was right